The follow up
by elzed
Summary: It's a hot Saturday afternoon in Chino and Ryan is feeling down. Until someone turns up... Set immediately after An Offer too good to refuse - features an unconventional pairing. Please R&R.
1. Self pity

  
  
So what would happen if the unlikely pairing alluded to in _An offer too good to refuse_ actually got it together? This calls for extremely wilful suspension of disbelief – but it was too tempting to explore. So here goes. This takes place a week later (and you should probably read _An offer too good to refuse_ for it to make sense).

Please review – it's what keeps me going.

DISCLAIMER: Fox owns everything; I own nothing; sue me not.  
  
Chap 1:  
  
It was a sultry Saturday afternoon in Chino and Ryan was sprawled on his bed indulging in a rare bout of self-pity. He felt like a monumental failure. How had he managed to wreck his life so thoroughly? Just a year ago, he'd been given the chance of a lifetime to escape his shitty no-hope existence. And now – well, he was back into a well-trodden Chino groove: get the girlfriend pregnant, drop out of school and get a crap job. He might as well have stayed in juvie.  
  
To make things worse, he'd really started enjoying his new Newport life before he left. He was getting settled into the Cohen family, enjoying its quirkiness, its comfortable, easygoing lifestyle and its extravagant – by his standards – displays of affection. He'd wake up in the mornings, often earlier than he'd wished as the sun came streaming in through the poolhouse's flimsy blinds, and look forward to the day ahead. Unheard-of behaviour for Ryan Atwood, who was famously not a morning person. But those lazy Newport days spent floating around the pool, hanging with Seth playing videogames or cycling to the pier to meet the girls were a blast. Even the schooldays were okay – Harbor beat Chino Hills any day and school, any school, beat working on a fucking building site for piss-all money.  
  
That's when the musings got a bit sour. Or bitter. Or whatever. When Ryan started totting up in his head the many, many ways in which he'd contrived to fuck it all up. Either because he felt duty-bound to sort someone else out, or just through crap-headed stupidity. Like the night he stayed over at the motel and fucked Theresa – hell, it seemed like a good idea at the time... Especially after the long months of drought with uptight Marissa and her "let's wait for the right moment" (not, incidentally, the one when she tried to throw herself at him to make up for the Oliver debacle). Well, okay, there had been a fair bit of making out, and the odd blowjob, but it was hardly Chino standards, dude.  
  
And he was particularly proud of the fact that they didn't use any protection that night – good thinking Ryan. Whatever happened there? It's not like he didn't know what he was doing – they'd done it a hundred times before; they'd always played it safe. So why the fuck did he listen to his dick and go along with the whispered "It's okay, it'll be fine" when they realised they were out of condoms?  
  
At that point, disgusted with what an asshole he'd been, he swung his legs off the bed and walked to the sparsely furnished kitchen, which took up a corner of the living-room. The house reminded him of the last house he'd shared with his mother and fucking AJ, the one she'd left so quickly after kicking him out last summer. He opened the fridge, pulled out a cold beer and downed it in a few gulps. He felt slightly better. He took another beer. Might as well get drunk, watch some TV, keep his mind off things. But he couldn't shake his black mood.  
  
Where he'd outdone himself, he thought, is when he decided to throw it all away for someone else's sake. Why couldn't he give himself a break – ever? Why was it so wrong to allow himself to hang on to this nice new life, this unbelievably generous and loving family, his few modest ambitions – finishing high school, maybe even giving college a shot? Why go and sacrifice his entire life for the sake of Theresa's unborn child? Who might – just – be his. Even though he didn't really believe it, the odds being stacked in Eddie's favour there. Not that it mattered in the end – oh no, if the alternative was Theresa going back to Eddie for support, then Ryan had to step in. And the worst was, he just couldn't have done anything else.   
  
God he sometimes hated himself for this knee-jerk tendency to jump to the rescue of every damn stray dog or damsel in distress. But he seemed powerless to control it – if someone needed him, his instincts, honed by years of looking after his dishevelled trainwreck of a mother, took over. His own priorities never got a look in.  
  
And now there was a new chapter to add to this catalogue of woes. His complete and total humiliation last weekend at that strip joint in LA. The topless bar work was bad enough, but the rest – the rest had just been freakish. Even though he'd made more than a thousand dollars that night.  
  
Ryan wondered idly why it had been so easy to slip the money past Theresa's radar. Maybe the pregnancy was making her more forgetful. Certainly he couldn't imagine the old Theresa not noticing that the bills were no longer a problem. But then he was making an effort to keep any financial concerns away from her; and she did have a lot on her mind these days. They weren't communicating all that much, either.  
  
Anyhow, he was glad he didn't have to explain how he'd got by the cash. In fact, he shuddered at the very thought. The fewer people knew about it, the better. Patty he figured he could trust – especially since she'd been cool enough not to ask for a detailed account of his night. And he had no choice, since she'd got him the gig. Also – and that was crucial – she didn't know about Julie Nichol.  
  
Julie Nichol.  
  
Jesus fucking Christ, thought Ryan for the hundredth time this week as he lay back on the couch staring at the ceiling, chugging another beer, I took my clothes off in front of my ex-girlfriend's mother. And she paid me for it. And I found it hot. How did that fucking happen?  
  
He kept going over the scene every damn day. And every damn night. Especially the nights. For some twisted reason, Ryan was starting to obsess about Julie Nichol, about her heavy-lidded eyes and her glossy lips and her cool stare and her sexy voice. And all the rest. Oh yeah, Julie was hot.  
  
He shook his head. All this was beginning to overwhelm him. He needed to clear his mind. Or maybe what he really needed was to get some action. He hadn't been with a girl for a while – in fact, not since that ill-fated night with Theresa. Man, it had been a fallow year.  
  
So – he needed a break. Some release. He needed to go out, pick up a girl, take her to bed and exorcise Julie Nichol well and truly out of his mind. And then make it to the restaurant for the start of his shift at 6.30. He snorted. Last year, that wouldn't have been such a problem but since he'd come back he'd stopped hanging with his old crowd any more – not least because he was trying to avoid Eddie and his friends. And he could hardly go sniffing around Theresa's girlfriends – there were limits to what she'd put up with. Although a couple of them were pretty fine.  
  
So. That left him with the solo option for now. He squinted at the TV, flipping through a few channels half-heartedly in case something interesting came up. But they couldn't afford cable, and that meant no porn. Jesus, thought Ryan, he actually had no porn in the house at all. Not a single magazine or video. Which had to be a first for a seventeen-year- old boy. How did that happen? All that hard work and no play was really getting to him. Sure, that left his usually fertile imagination but he wanted to keep away from that. He knew that if he relied on his mind, sooner or later a certain redhead was going to turn up in his fantasies. And then he was back to square one. Fuck, he was going to have to get himself some porn or get laid. And soon.  
  
He downed another beer in the hope of dulling his senses in the meantime and scanned channels again until he landed on a suitably violent movie. Scarface. Guns, drug-running, sexy chicks and lots of Cubans swearing seemed like a reasonable alternative. Well, bearable, at any rate.  
  
Halfway into the film, the doorbell rang. Ryan frowned. It was Saturday afternoon and Theresa was at the bakery so it couldn't be her mom, who was pretty much their only visitor these days. The Cohens never dropped by unannounced. In fact, he usually saw them in Newport. Maybe it was a friend of Theresa's. He stood up, stretched and slowly made his way to the hall, scowling as he opened the door. He was in no mood to talk to anyone  
  
It was Julie Nichol.  
  
_tbc_


	2. Booty call

Thank you for all the good reviews, guys – you are too kind. And yes, I know this is _sooo _wrong. I do think there is potential physical attraction between the two – although I don't think they would ever do anything about it. But I had to try to and see whether it could work.  
  
Please go on reviewing!  
  
DISCLAIMER: Fox owns everything; I own nothing; sue me not.  
  
AND: I'm indebted to Brandywine's recent fic "Some Bonding in an Elevator" for Julie Cooper/Nichol's past as a stripper. As soon as I read it I realised it made perfect sense. Thank you for the loan Brandywine – I hope you don't mind.  
  
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_Chap 2 – Booty call_  
  
This was just too fucking weird. Ryan rubbed his eyes and wondered briefly whether the beer was getting to him. Twice in a week was really getting freaky. Was she stalking him or what?  
  
"Julie. What the fuck is going on?" he muttered. He was uncomfortably aware of the fact that he'd been fantasising about her a short while ago. The sight of her, tanned and fit in white trousers and a skimpy halter-top, was making him feel horny all over again. Also, he was drunk. And that was definitely not the best state to be in when Julie Nichol was around, judging from his recent experience.  
  
"Is this about Marissa?" As far as he knew, Marissa was in rehab and didn't want to know about him. But he had to hope this wasn't what he feared it was.  
  
She had the good grace to look uncomfortable. "No, Ryan, this isn't about her. I just wanted to talk to you. About the other night."  
  
He was curt: "There's fuck-all to talk about and you know it." He felt in his back pocket for his cigarettes and pulled a crumpled packet. If this didn't call for a smoke, he didn't know what did. Even though he was trying to quit – again. He lit it and inhaled deeply.  
  
Julie was looking expectant: "Can I come in?"  
  
"Better not," he said abruptly. "I can't smoke inside anyhow." He noted the disappointment on her face, for a second, before the mask came back on.  
  
"Okay," she drawled. "Then can I bum one of these off you?"  
  
"Sure." Why couldn't these rich Newport bitches buy their own cigarettes, uh? Didn't they know the cost of tobacco? But it seemed churlish to refuse one to the woman who had effectively paid his month's rent.  
  
She leant back on the porch's rickety balustrade as he gave her a light. She let out a small laugh as she blew out the smoke. "I haven't smoked in, what, ten years," she mused. "God this tastes good."  
  
"So you came all the way from Newport for a cigarette?" Ryan lifted his eyebrows at her. "Tell me, I'm curious – how d'you even know where to find me?"  
  
"Please, Ryan, it's not that hard to track you down," she snorted. "Don't worry, nobody knows I'm here. I looked you up in Marissa's address book."  
  
Ryan was getting nervous again. He had the definite feeling that she wasn't here just for a chat. And while that made all sorts of scenarios pop into his head, some of them pretty steamy, he was damn sure that he couldn't let anything of them happen. He had to stay in control.  
  
"Look Julie, can we cut the crap? I have stuff to do and I'm sure you don't want to spend longer in Chino than you need to."  
  
"Actually, Ryan, I came to apologise," she sighed.  
  
Ryan almost dropped his cigarette in shock. _That _was unexpected: "You what?"  
  
"Look, can I come inside? This is... kind of awkward." She looked nervous behind her polished façade.  
  
He nodded and ushered her into the living room. He was intrigued. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt an insane urge to push her against the wall and fuck her right there. He was positive she would respond in kind – she gave off the right vibes. Another part of his mind was screaming at him to move away, get behind the kitchen counter and keep his hands occupied. He went for that option and opened the fridge: "Beer?"  
  
"Thanks". Julie took the can and drank deeply before continuing. "The other night, Ryan – it was your first time, right?"  
  
"And last," he muttered, wincing. But he was curious. "What's it to you?"  
  
There was a silence.  
  
"When I met Jimmy," said Julie eventually, "I was a stripper. And I was eighteen. I remember pretty well what it felt like the first time I stripped for a guy. And even then it wasn't someone I knew already. So – I think I have an idea of what it was like for you."  
  
Ryan just stared at her. He was stunned. Not so much by the fact that Julie had been a stripper – after her wedding shower he'd got the message that Caleb's bride had started life as trashy as they came, and he'd wondered how she'd ever hooked up with Jimmy Cooper. But why she chose to reveal this to him, of all people, was beyond him. He was also disturbingly aware that part of his brain was busy processing the "I was a stripper" bit and coming up with some graphic images to illustrate the concept. He bit his lip. Hard.  
  
She looked straight back at him. "I'm sorry I treated you like shit," she said. "I was kind of rattled when you turned up."  
  
"No shit, Julie," he snapped back. "How d'you think I felt?"  
  
"Well, that's why I'm here." She sounded contrite. Ryan wasn't quite buying it though. He couldn't shake off the thought that she wanted more. He remembered the look in her eyes at the club that night, and how he'd suddenly clicked that her general dislike of him might have been covering something completely different. But he'd been thrown completely off balance by her apology.  
  
"Look, Ryan, I just wanted you to know that. Because I think you and I have a lot in common. You know where I'm coming from." She still looked ill at ease.  
  
"Yeah, I do now," snorted Ryan. "Come on, man, that's the kind of thing Sandy would come up with – I know how you must feel stuck with all these spoiled brats.... It's not really your kind of..."  
  
"Oh please," interrupted Julie angrily. "Sandy Cohen? Sandy's never been white trash. He knows jack about what it really feels like. You do and I do. And that's something I can't share with anyone else in Newport."  
  
"In case you haven't noticed, I'm no longer in Newport," he shot back. "I guess I'm back where I belong. So, sorry, but there isn't much to share anymore. And I still don't get what the fuck you're doing here. You didn't come all that way just to say sorry."  
  
Julie smiled. "Well, I did want to tell you that. But if we're going to be totally honest... I've also been thinking about the other night. A lot. And I'm sure you have, too. Don't pretend you weren't turned on. You were naked, remember?" She was regaining confidence.  
  
The woman's cheek was unbelievable. And the reaction she was triggering in Ryan's sex-starved brain, not to mention his jeans, was unmistakeable. He could feel his resolve beginning to crumble.  
  
"Yeah, so what?" he retorted. "I was also drunk as hell. And even if you did give me a hard-on, it doesn't mean I'm going to fuck you."  
  
He really, really wanted this to be true. But Ryan was getting pissed off. He missed sex. Sex was his thing. Sex was good. He was good at sex. It made him feel right. He'd caught onto this precious fact of life early on when he was barely in his teens and he'd discovered that having sex was a good way of forgetting the bad stuff that happened to him at home. Sleeping with girls – ironically, more often than not Theresa – had started off as a survival strategy to drown out the anger and the pain. But he'd learnt to enjoy it for its own sake pretty damn quick. And he had a natural affinity for it – he was good with his hands and his mouth and his body; and patient when he had to be. Ryan had never had trouble getting laid in Chino.  
  
But now sex was no longer simple. It was either a big deal, or a bargaining chip, or some guilt-laden trip. Or – in the case of his famous last fuck – a colossal mistake that had ruined his life. He mourned the loss of carefree, feel-good sex. He was fed up with the self-denial, fed up with constantly having to stay in control. He could never let go. He was trapped in a situation almost certainly not of his making (except, of course, he'd _chosen_ to be there) and couldn't see a way out of it. And he wasn't even getting any. His life sucked – bad. At that point, Ryan was caught in a mood of self-pity, drunkenness and goddamn nearly overwhelming teenage hormone-driven horniness. So turning down a fantastically sexy MILF sitting on his couch looking at him with bedroom eyes – who'd only just mentioned that she used to be a stripper – that wasn't going to be easy. No matter what their shared past. Or the fact that this would hardly be carefree, no-guilt sex.  
  
He had to try: "Christ, do you have to hit on all her exes? Haven't you learnt your lesson?"  
  
Julie glared. That clearly stung. Maybe she'd leave now, and he could pretend this never happened.  
  
Then she shrugged: "That was back in Newport, Ryan. This is Chino. You said it yourself – you're back where you belong. It's not like we'll be mixing at social functions in the near future." She stood up. Ryan was leaning against the kitchen counter, tense. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He knew he should move, walk away, run for the door – anything but stand there. But this time he just couldn't make himself.  
  
He just stood there, his hips resting against the counter, blue eyes uncertain, breathing shallow and trying to pretend he didn't want her to jump him then and there despite the million good reasons this was a terrible idea. He looked breathtakingly sexy and vulnerable all of a sudden and Julie's breath caught in her throat as she stared at him. She took a step forward.  
  
She was way too close now. Ryan could smell her perfume, almost felt her breath on his skin. He swallowed hard. He looked at her eyes, hypnotised by her gaze, heavy-lidded, sexy as hell. He felt himself harden even before she put her hand on his thigh.  
  
Julie ran her long manicured nails lightly up his jeans, stroking his leg, but purposefully avoiding his by now obvious erection. As her hand slid up and around, her nails still barely touching him, trailing on his ass and slowly creeping up his back, he clenched his fingers around the edge of the counter, knuckles whitening. He knew he had to do something to take control of this or he would end up disgracing himself. Right now, he felt like he was teetering on the brink. He took a shaky breath, grabbed her by the hips and spun her around. Now Julie was trapped against the counter, surprise showing in her green eyes. He slid his leg between hers, pressing himself against her hip.  
  
She gasped and her eyes closed as she felt a rush of desire. He'd moved in such a self-assured way, all trace of uncertainty gone and she suddenly knew she was no longer in control. So soon, she thought. His hands felt hot through the thin fabric of her tight pants and god, the way he rubbed himself against her hip was driving her insane.  
  
Ryan kept one hand on her waist and slid the other to the back of her neck, pulling her head towards him to kiss her. I'm kissing Julie Cooper, his mind screamed at him, briefly, and then he was lost in her hot, wet mouth, tongues merging, lips mashing against teeth as they kissed breathlessly. When he eventually pulled away, he noted with grim satisfaction that she whimpered as he broke contact with her. He stood there for a second, with a half-smile on his lips, looking at her. She was flushed and breathing heavily. Ryan felt he'd regained the upper hand. Just.  
  
She licked her lips lazily, staring at him, and he felt himself losing it again. He pushed her back against the counter, this time more pressing. His hands slid up her back and he undid her halter-top smoothly, and let his fingers follow the fabric as it slipped down her breasts. She wasn't wearing a bra. Christ, Julie had a nice rack. He lingered there, tongue following the fingers until she threw her head back and moaned.  
  
He felt her nails scratching his back and pulling on his wifebeater, tugging to slip it off his back. Her hands stroking his shoulders, sliding down his front slowly tracing out his abs. The feel of her hard nails on his skin was giving Ryan goose pimples. He was starting to lose focus, caught in his own desire.  
  
Kisses became more urgent, deeper. He bit his way along her neck, gently at first then more savagely. "Stop," she hissed. "No marks." She bit him back, sucking his lower lip then catching it between her teeth until he could almost taste blood while her hands roamed lower down his belly and into the waistband of his jeans. Things started speeding up. Hands unbuttoning, unzipping, slipping in. Fingers in underwear, his, hers, tangled, hot, hard, wet, slick. Her hand on him. His in her.

Older women. He remembered the first time he'd slept with an older woman. He was fourteen and she was the – young – stepmother of a guy he went to school with. She must've been thirty. She was hot. And uninhibited and not at all bothered by the fact that she was bedding a boy half her age. She'd taught him a lot about sex. But she had nothing on Julie. He caught his breath, pulled himself together, concentrated on his hand caressing her. If he was going to fuck Julie Nichol, he wanted to make damn sure she remembered the experience. He wasn't going to come in his pants like a fucking virgin. He had his pride.  
  
She was undressing him now, pulling down his jeans as he helped her kick her pants off. Condom, fucking condom, now. With a jolt, Ryan pulled himself back into focus. "Fuck," he panted, "Wait." He staggered to the bedroom, picked a condom blindly in his bedside table, tore at the wrapper, put it on, came back. The look she gave him was pure unbridled lust as she braced herself back on the counter, lips parted, shallow breaths coming out. Ryan grabbed her by the hips, and pulled her to him. He fucked her hot and hard and fast against the counter, holding back as long as he could, jaw clenched, until she cried and he let go and he saw sparks and his knees shook and they slid down together in a messy heap on the floor.  
  
Julie rested her head against his heaving shoulder. Her hair was sweaty and tangled and he resisted the urge to stroke it. They'd barely exchanged a word.  
  
"I knew you'd be nothing like Luke," she said languidly, and smiled.

_(tbc)_

_A/N: I have a newfound respect for the writers of any kind of smut or sex scenes - that took me forever to write, and it was not easy. I hope it works. I'm not entirely sure whether it stays within PG-13 rating, which seems to cover a multitude of sins judging by some of the stories out there. Review and let me know what you think. _


	3. The Julie

Well since I've got them that far, I may as well continue. We all know this can't last forever – so let me try to let it live the course of its natural (or unnatural) life. There will be at least one more chapter.  
  
Please review – I do like knowing what my readers think. Criticism (constructive preferably) welcome.  
  
And thanks to all of you who have already posted reviews – some of them awesome. I am touched. Please keep 'em coming.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Fox owns everything; I own nothing; please don't sue me.  
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_Chapter 3: The Julie  
_  
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" asked Ryan, rummaging through his discarded clothes until he found the cigarettes. He lit two, handed Julie one. "Although I'm not sure I want to know."  
  
"Luke was such a boy," she said, eyes closed as she inhaled. "Just so... enthusiastic, wanting to try everything. Eager to please. Oh, don't get me wrong, he was good. But you – you're quite something, Ryan Atwood. You're really not like a seventeen-year-old at all..." She looked up at him then, and although her tone was mocking Ryan could tell she really meant it. Which made him want to blush. Way to loose the edge there.  
  
"When you turned up, earlier – what if Theresa had been there?" he asked suddenly.  
  
Julie looked sly: "I swung by the bakery on the way. I'm not that reckless." He had to smile at that. She had planned this all right.  
  
Oddly, Ryan felt comfortable there sitting on the floor with her, smoking with his back resting against the kitchen counter. They were shoulder to shoulder – not quite touching, but sharing a sort of relaxed post-coital intimacy. Somehow all that was wrong about their fucking didn't matter right here, right now. Maybe it was because they were in Chino. Or maybe because they had both needed it so much. Besides, on a purely physical, carnal, level, he and Julie were perfectly matched.  
  
As for the rest, well, better not think about it. Better not think about Marissa and how she would react if she found out her mother had slept with another ex-boyfriend of hers. Better not think about how Caleb would react to his new bride cuckolding him with his foster-grandson. God, that sounded even worse, thought Ryan. What is it with Caleb's women anyhow that they want to end up in bed with me? Good taste in women though, the old man.  
  
"Can I take a shower?" asked Julie, yawning like a cat and stretching her arms above her head. "I can't very well go home like this." She looked, it had to be said, like a woman who'd just been fucked good, all smudged makeup and messy, sweaty hair and lips puffy from too much kissing. She was still flushed and Ryan almost got hard again just looking at her.  
  
"Sure, go ahead. I've got to leave for work in half an hour, though."  
  
She looked surprised: "Are you going back to Carter's? I thought..."  
  
"No! No, I bus tables at a regular restaurant a few nights a week," he muttered, embarrassed. He didn't want to go into details with her, expose the sordid reality of his day-to-day life, the long hours, the job juggling, the penny-pinching. He didn't want to risk being on the receiving end of her pity, because being pitied by Julie Cooper – that would be too much.  
  
Maybe she caught on quick, because she didn't say anything, just picked up her clothes and went to the bathroom. She even left him time to shower before he had to go. He was surprised to see her still in the living room when he came out, hair damp, half-dressed.  
  
"How are you getting there?" Julie asked. "You don't have two cars, do you?"  
  
"Bike. It's not that far." And he was used to it.  
  
"I'll drop you off. You can put the bike in the back," she said casually, and he knew she'd probably been thinking this over for the past ten minutes, trying to sound offhand but wanting to be nice to him.  
  
He shrugged. "Okay." He was feeling pretty tired after all the exertion. If Julie wanted to be helpful, fine.  
  
On the ride there they made small talk. He showed her the construction site where he worked days and the high school he used to go to. She said it reminded her of where she grew up. They didn't mention what had happened, or what it meant, or what impact it would have on the people in their lives if they found out. But he did kiss her when they stopped a block away from the restaurant and he climbed out of her SUV and took his bike out of the back.

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Three days later, around about the time he knocked off from his construction job, he saw her car cruise slowly past and park a hundred yards up the road. He debated briefly with himself whether or not to go to her but it wasn't much of a fight.  
  
"Hey Julie. Back in the 'hood?" he smirked when he rode up to her window.  
  
She smiled: "What can I say Ryan – I like slumming it." And the look she gave him then was enough to make him forget any notion he had of playing it cool. He stashed the bike in the back and climbed in. Somehow, he reasoned, the fact that they'd already done it made it okay. The taboo had been broken already. This, well, this was just icing on the cake.  
  
"Theresa home?" asked Julie, not at all innocently. She let her hand stray onto his thigh. Ryan closed his eyes and inhaled slowly.  
  
"She will be." He hesitated for a second, then: "There's a halfway decent motel nearby – it's not the Mermaid Inn but it's okay. For Chino. If you're into slumming, it should do you fine."  
  
"Actually, that'd be your job," she shot back. Ryan grinned. It was far easier to relax with her than he'd ever thought. Once she dropped the attitude, and the chip on her shoulder she carried in Newport, Julie was all right, really. Just as long as he forgot who she was.  
  
And the sex, god, the sex was mind blowing. She was without a doubt the hottest chick he'd ever fucked – and that was saying something. They had perfect chemistry together. The old enmity between them only heightened the sexual tension and gave an extra edge to the proceedings as they vied with each other to impress the other.  
  
When he came home that night Ryan was exhausted. Theresa was back, but having a nap, as she often did when she came home from work. Thankful, he slipped into the shower. No explanation needed.

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It started happening more regularly. Julie never called or made firm appointments. Just some days, as he left work, he'd walk or cycle up the road and her car would be parked in the same spot or nearby. Once or twice se turned up on a night he had to go to the restaurant and they ended up having a quick fuck in the car in an abandoned yard before he rushed home to change and go out again. Occasionally, Julie would even turn up at the end of his restaurant shift. Their motel room saw plenty of action that summer.  
  
Theresa never asked him where he'd been, never commented on his tardiness, never said a word. It was part of their deal. But Ryan knew she suspected there was another woman, or many, and that made her unhappy. He felt slightly guilty, but not enough to stop.  
  
He slid easily into the routine of their affair. He found that when he was with Julie, he forgot about the shittiness of his life. The sex was short-circuiting his brain. And he much preferred that to thinking about his future. He did sometimes wonder whether Caleb was going to find out, but Julie assured him that he was away on frequent trips these days, frantically trying to save the Newport Group and his own ass. Luckily, she confided, he had plenty of money salted away in offshore bank accounts and she for one wasn't risking anything. But she did laugh bitterly at her poor choice in men.  
  
"I don't know what's wrong with me.... My first husband plea-bargained his way out of a jail sentence, the feds are desperate to get my second husband locked up, and even my lover's done time in juvie," she said one evening as they were recovering after a particularly energetic bout in the motel. "I must have a thing for felons."  
  
"Yeah well, you can't help it. You can take the girl out of Riverside but you can't take Riverside out of the girl" murmured Ryan into her hair before pulling her onto him. "Besides, girls always fall for the bad boys."  
  
"Hmm, I can just imagine you in a jumpsuit," she mused. "I don't suppose you'd want to model one for me, would you?" She laughed.  
  
Ryan raised an eyebrow at her. "Yeah, no. Not actually that cool to wear, you know, Julie. And juvie hall? Not the most fun place to be either." If he hadn't been so bonelessly relaxed he would've tensed up at the memories. "Anyhow if we ever get busted, you might be finding out a bit more about prison life than you've bargained for. I mean, technically, you're the felon here."  
  
"Don't I just know it," sighed Julie. "But I keep forgetting you're underage."  
  
Ryan smiled. "Yeah, I bet that'd sway the cops. Wanna give them another chance to catch us?" he suggested as he let his hands roam over her body. He didn't bother waiting for an answer and started kissing her hungrily. She never said no.  
  
Of course, he knew it couldn't last. They both knew. But neither of them could have predicted the end.  
  
_(tbc)_


	4. The end of the affair

All good things must come to an end. But there may be an epilogue.  
  
Oh, and I know this is a bit of a standard cop-out on the Theresa front – but this isn't her story, really. And it had to happen.  
  
Thank you to my lovely reviewers – you know who you are, and you are too kind. Please keep on reviewing.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Fox's property. Or Josh's. Or both. Please don't sue me.

-------------------------------------------------------  
  
_Chapter 4: The end of the affair  
_  
Ryan was working up some scaffolding on the site on a sweltering July afternoon, teeth gritted as he tried to focus on the work at hand and ignore the fact that he was twenty feet up in the air when his foreman called him down. A phone call, apparently. Ryan was happy to get back on the ground but felt apprehension knotting his stomach as he walked toward the site office. No one ever called him at work. It couldn't be a good sign.  
  
"Ryan?" He was shocked when he recognised the voice. What the fuck was she doing calling him at work?  
  
"Julie? What's up?" he snapped.  
  
"There's... Ryan, I don't know how to tell you this, but Theresa's been in an accident." She sounded awful. Like she'd been crying. Ryan felt the blood drain from his face.  
  
"What?" He bit back the urge to shout, forced his voice to stay calm. "Is she okay? How bad is it?"  
  
"She was in a car crash. She's... she's all right, I guess. No major injury as far as I know. But..." Julie faltered.  
  
Ryan closed his eyes. He knew what was coming: "It's the baby, isn't it?"  
  
She didn't answer and he felt his heart lurch. For a second, he relaxed his grip and let a cascade of emotions wash through him. Grief for the child who never would be. Pity for Theresa who had to deal with the loss. And relief, goddamn relief at the thought that he wasn't going to be a father just yet. That in turn led to a surge of guilt. How dare he feel relief when Theresa was going through hell? He tried to pull himself back together, focus on the moment.  
  
At that point, Ryan realised what had been bothering him since the start of the conversation.  
  
"Julie – why are _you_ the one telling me this?" he asked abruptly. "What have you got to do with this situation?"  
  
He was met with silence. Julie sighed. Evidently it was proving hard to explain. Suddenly Ryan felt a chill. It could only be Marissa, he thought. But how?  
  
"Ryan, I don't know how to tell you this but... Theresa was in Marissa's car, "Julie finally ventured. "Marissa was driving. And, oh Ryan, she'd been drinking. I'm so sorry."  
  
Ryan was confused: "Marissa? I thought she was still in rehab?"  
  
"She was in Newport for a home visit. I didn't know she was still drinking – she's supposed to be making real progress. And she wasn't allowed to take the car. I don't really know what happened. I think she was giving Theresa a lift. I..." She hesitated again. "I don't think it was deliberate. It was an accident Ryan, an accident."  
  
An accident. Marissa caused Theresa to have a miscarriage and it was an accident. He didn't know what to make of it, what to believe. Having Julie fill him in on the details was too surreal – all these women whom he'd slept with tangled together in an obscene web. He felt nauseous, all of a sudden.  
  
"How is she? Marissa I mean," he asked quietly.  
  
"Okay. Concussed. Confused. It wasn't a very bad crash. Just enough... Really, I'm so sorry." Julie sounded sincere and distraught. Unsurprisingly, they hadn't talked about Marissa at all during their clandestine encounters, and Ryan had only been hearing occasional news about her through the Cohens. But he knew her daughter's plight was upsetting Julie more than she ever let on, especially since the two had been virtually estranged for months now. Marissa, though, was secondary. He needed to focus on Theresa, who would need as much support as she could get. And fast.  
  
He thanked Julie and mumbled something about getting hold of Theresa's mom as he hung up. He was at a loss as to how to deal with the miscarriage – but he expected Theresa to want him by her side as soon as possible.  
  
On the way to HOAG, Ryan called Kirsten on her cell. He figured he owed the Cohens as much, plus it could only be a good thing to have her on his side when dealing with Newport doctors. She assured him she'd be there when they arrived. She was, and Ryan felt an acute pang of homesickness when she enfolded him in her arms for a quick hug in the ER waiting room. Julie was there too, looking like she'd been through hell. They exchanged a quick nod as he went in to Theresa.  
  
As it turned out, it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Marissa's car had crashed into a wall when she swerved to avoid a truck after failing to stop at a stop sign. The passenger side of the car had taken the brunt of the impact, but because it had been a low-speed crash, Theresa was relatively unscathed. Bruises, bumps, a few scratches and a sprained wrist. Ryan, who'd been bracing himself for the sight of her as he walked into her room, allowed himself to relax a little. She was looking like she'd been beaten up again, and her wrist was bandaged. On the whole, considering the car was totalled, she wasn't bad. He'd seen worse. But he knew the real damage was below the surface – he could read it in her eyes.  
  
"Hey, Theresa, how are you doing," he said softly.  
  
"Okay. I guess. In shock. You...you've heard about?" She couldn't bring herself to say it.  
  
"Yeah, I have," he murmured. "I'm sorry, Theresa, I'm so sorry". And he was sorry, really sorry. The relief – well, he didn't want to admit to that now and risk upsetting her further. He sat gingerly on the edge of the bed.  
  
"I'm sorry too, Ryan. It hurts. And not just physically." She started crying. Ryan put his arm around her. He felt awkward.  
  
"Your mom's here. Do you want to see her?"  
  
"No," she whispered, "Not yet. Just you, now."  
  
They sat in silence as she cried quietly on his shoulder. Ryan wasn't quite sure what to do except hug her. And hope she would stop crying because it made him feel terrible. He'd never been any good with crying women. After what seemed like an eternity, the tears stopped.  
  
"You know the worst, Ry?" she said, her voice muffled into his neck. "I'm really sad about the baby. But I'm also, I don't know..." She hesitated.  
  
"Relieved?" suggested Ryan tentatively. He hoped like hell he'd guessed correctly because otherwise – well, he dreaded to think how she'd receive his words.  
  
Theresa nodded, sniffing. "And I feel so bad about that, so guilty..." She looked at him then, dark eyes full of worry and pain. He hushed her and drew her tighter into his arms. "It's not your fault, baby," he murmured. "Don't feel bad... I understand..." He rocked her in his arms, cheek pressed against her hair. His mind was in turmoil – one part of him desperate to grieve with her for the baby they'd never have, the other embracing the thought that it was for the best, and that it never would have worked for them.  
  
Eventually she sighed and pulled away. "Let's not talk about this right now, Ry. It's going to take me a little time to get used to it, I guess." He took her hand in his and stroked it lightly with his thumb.  
  
"So tell me then. What exactly happened?" he said. He was curious – and a little apprehensive – about how the pair had ended up in the same car. And again, guilty, because he was the one who'd brought them together in the first place.  
  
Theresa shrugged. "I was in town during my break, window-shopping. You know, looking at the latest fashion and the stupid prices Newport chicks pay for them... She just walked out of one of the shops and said hi, and we got talking, kind of. And then I was running late and she said she'd drive me back. I didn't know she'd been drinking Ryan, I swear."  
  
"Do you remember the accident?"  
  
"I think she missed a stop sign and she was going to sail across the road," she replied, "and then this truck was coming so she swerved. We hit a wall. I don't really recall the details. It's kind of blurred..."  
  
That easy, he thought. A missed stop sign, a truck, a swerve of the steering wheel. And suddenly everything was different.  
  
----------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
After the accident, his life changed again.  
  
He didn't want to leave Theresa immediately but after a week or so, when the Cohens suggested he might want to consider returning home, he let himself be swayed. Eventually, he gave in to their combined assault.  
  
Sandy and Kirsten had made it clear they fully expected him back before the start of the school year, and were badgering him about having a proper break before the start of term. Sandy had already told him bluntly that time was running out and he should pack up and come home now. Kirsten, ever the subtle one, had merely remarked that breakfasts weren't the same without him, and that she missed his cooking.  
  
And Seth, who'd returned home sheepishly after his sailing jaunt when his money ran out; Seth, who was grounded until school started again, and then some; Seth, who'd been sporadically emailing him for the past few weeks before the accident in an attempt to make up for being such a jerk – Seth was now calling him every day to find out when he'd be returning to the poolhouse.  
  
Even Theresa was unwilling to see him waste time in Chino when he could be back in Newport with his family. Her words. She was resilient, she said, and she hated seeing him torn between his duty and his heart's desire.  
  
"It's not like you'll never see me, Ry," she told him. "But you've done enough for me.. More than enough. From now on I can look after myself. Like I've always done, okay? Remember, I'm not one of those prissy Newport princesses Ryan. And I really don't want to fuck up your life. Now piss off home before you make me feel even guiltier than I already am about this whole thing. "  
  
So he stopped fighting it. After a couple of months back in Chino, he was damn sure he didn't want to spend the rest of his life there if he could avoid it. He went with the flow.

Home. He was going home.  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ryan met Julie one last time at the motel, after calling her for the first and only time. He didn't enquire about Marissa – he knew she was back in rehab, somewhere different that time. Stricter, he imagined. They must've plea-bargained something. But now wasn't the time to start talking about her, or her pivotal role in the break-up of their liaison, not to mention in shaping his future life. That headfuck he saved for when he was alone and, preferably, drunk. Now was the time to say goodbye.  
  
What happened in Chino had to stay in Chino. They both knew it was out of the question that they could carry on their affair in Newport. They didn't even need to discuss it, or the fact that it had to remain a secret between them. That was a given.  
  
As for the awkwardness that would come when they met again at society dos, or family gatherings – well, they were adults. Or almost. They were used to keeping secrets. They could handle it.  
  
It was a bittersweet meeting. They both knew this was a goodbye fuck, and there was an urgency to it that had them stumbling all over each other on the way to the bed, panting and tearing at clothing in their haste, but the sex ended up unexpectedly tender, as if they were finally willing to let their guard down, this one last time...  
  
After, when they were both spent, they lay in bed together in each other's arms – something they'd conspicuously failed to do in the past – and contemplated their future.  
  
"So, back to being enemies?" she joked.  
  
"I guess," shrugged Ryan. He looked up at her slyly. "Although since you're like, my grandma now, I'm not sure how that's going to work out."  
  
"Don't say grandma!" Julie cried in mock horror.  
  
And don't mention Marissa, thought Ryan. Or Caleb. Or Jimmy. Or Kirsten and Sandy. Because nobody, but nobody would understand what had happened there. Christ, he barely knew how it had come about.  
  
But as they walked out of the motel room together, and Ryan kissed Julie for the last time before getting his bike out of the boot of her car, it struck him that he was really going to miss those moments they had. And that Chino would've been a hell of a lot worse had it not been for her.  
  
Julie had been the highlight of his summer. Now _that _was weird.  
  
_(Tbc because Ryan and Julie deserve an epilogue of sorts.)_


	5. Epilogue: Three conversations

Okay – this is the promised epilogue. This is really the end of this twisted pairing. I think they'll keep their hands off each other from now on. Thank you to all who took time to review this – you don't know how happy it makes me to read you. So please, do it again.

_Disclaimer: Usual applies. It's all Fox and Josh, I own nothing, please leave me be_.

_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

_Chapter 5: Epilogue: Three Conversations._

_September 2004_

It didn't take Ryan long to fit back into his Newport life. One day he was sweating his ass off on a Chino construction site, the next he was in the pool, lounging alonside Seth on a raft. He did a lot more of that now. After a summer of hard work, idle time had become more attractive. And it turned out to be a good bonding opportunity with that prince of idlers, Seth. They talked, now and then, about that weird summer. Like that morning after another Newport gala (god, he hadn't missed those), where he'd seen Julie for the first time since Chino. Not that Seth knew anything about _that_.

"Hey, dude, how's the head?" asked Seth, bobbing on his raft. "I definitely saw you ordering hard liquor at the bar last night. You're lucky mom didn't. And hey, you could've got me some, because I never make it past the barmen. So are you paying the price now, or what?"

Ryan shrugged. His head was fine. He'd gotten used to drinking again over the summer. "Yeah, like I'm going to get you drunk the minute I come back. Bet Kirsten would love this. And no, I'm not hungover, if that's what you're asking." He was still thinking about Julie, which pissed him off no end. She'd been friendly to him last night when they met. And she'd looked good, after her trip to Barbados with Caleb. Fuck the pair of them.

"So, do you think marriage to my grandpa has thawed Julie Cooper?" said Seth, sending Ryan into a short-lived panic attack before he realised that no, Seth wasn't inside his head. And still had no idea. But he'd obviously noticed something.

"What?" He shot Seth a sideways glance.

"Well," Seth said, "she seemed a lot chummier – as Dad would say – last night than she ever did. With you, I mean. She's always been pretty chummy with the rich Newport contingent. Maybe she feels guilty about Marissa and the accident."

"Yeah, I guess." Ryan was feeling distinctly uncomfortable. He wanted to steer the conversation away from this subject as quickly as possible, but he didn't want Seth to notice. Luckily, Seth was doing all the legwork.

"And of course, you're not hanging around Marissa any more. So you're not a threat. But I still think grandpa must've tamed her somehow. Do you think they really hit it off together? I mean, d'you think the old man's still got what it takes to..."

Ryan made a face. "Shut up, Seth!" That was one image he could live without.

"Sorry, you're right, I really don't want that picture in my mind either," Seth said quickly. He stared at the water, silent for an instant. When he spoke again, he sounded more subdued.

"Do you ever wonder about the accident? I mean, do you ever think that maybe Marissa did it..." He drew a breath. "That it wasn't an accident, I mean?"

Ryan didn't reply for a while. Sure he'd thought about it. But did he really think that?

"No. I mean, yeah, I did wonder," he said slowly, "but I don't think so. She's fucked- up, but she's not that fucked-up."

"Still," said Seth absent-mindedly, "she kind of did you a favour there." And then he stopped, aghast at what he'd just said. He tried to backtrack. "I don't mean it like that. Sorry. Sorry! It's an awful thing to say. Oh man, I really didn't mean to..."

"Shut up, Seth," said Ryan, again. He sighed. "Besides, it's not like I haven't thought that too. Even if it makes me feel like a shit."

Seth couldn't find anything to say to that.

Well, at least they weren't talking about Julie anymore, thought Ryan.

_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo_

_October 2004 _

Ryan didn't actually get to talk to Julie properly – without Caleb or some Cohens hovering in the background – until the big Harbor School fundraiser in the fall. It was a particularly glittering occasion and he was wearing a tux, which made him feel like a penguin. Or a waiter. And he wasn't keen on either. So he slunk off after the congratulatory speeches and found himself a quiet corner in the grounds and lit up. His peace was short-lived.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Newport's favourite juvenile delinquent," said a familiar voice.

He looked over his shoulder. Julie was alone, and there was no one else within earshot. She looked pretty sexy in a black sheath slit to the thigh.

"Fuck off, Julie," he said offhand, "We all know who's the felon here. Are you here to bum another smoke off me?"

She looked apologetic. "I wish. Caleb would kill me. And Kirsten would kill _you_, if she knew. How do you get away with it?"

Ryan shrugged. "I don't know. Breath mints. Keeping my distance. No kissing. Oh, and not sleeping in her bed helps."

"Very funny." She sat down next to him. "So how have you been doing since you got back, anyhow? Everything okay?"

"Yeah.Yeah, it is. Really."

She smiled.

"You know, you better be careful. If anybody finds us out here...." he said, gesturing vaguely.

She cut him off. "Oh come on Ryan, we're virtually family. It would take a diseased mind to imagine anything. Not that there aren't plenty of those here, mind you." She eyed his cigarette. "Come on, give your grandma a drag."

He laughed and handed it to her. "Yeah, well, Seth's noticed something. He thinks Caleb's mellowed you out; he's so amazed at how nice you are to me these days. He chalks it up to the old man's sex appeal."

"Maybe he's right," Julie said. "Jealous?"

"Nah. I know better," said Ryan. "So how are _you_ doing?"

"Actually," she said, inhaling the smoke deeply. "I kind of miss Chino." And as she said that she looked at him just so and he felt himself go hard. It freaked him how quickly she could get to him, still. He wanted to grab her and kiss her and he knew that if he did they'd end up naked and fucking right here on the bench. His heart was pounding. He could almost taste her already. They might not even get caught. It was a big garden. He shook his head. Crazy shit. He had to take off. Now.

Obviously she came to the same conclusion because as he stood up to leave she did too and they nearly collided with each other. He smiled at her and backed off, hands raised. It was like she was Kryptonite or something. As long as he didn't touch her he might make it. If he didn't think about the memories of her crowding his brain and tried to focus on getting out instead.

"You stay. Finish the smoke. I'll go find Seth and see if we can score some champagne. And then I'll get drunk and avoid you. If you don't mind."

"No. You go. I'll just stay here and think about the good times." He could hear the smile in her voice as he walked off. He stopped himself from looking back at her, knowing it would just make it harder to leave. Fucking tease.

It got easier after a while, but Ryan never quite stopped thinking about Julie that way.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_December 2004_

When Luke came back to Newport for Christmas vacation, he ended up spending much of his spare time over at the Cohens. With Seth wrapped up in Summer all day long it meant more time with Ryan than ever before. And strangely, they hit it off. They watched sports together, listened to rock bands and even talked some. One afternoon when Sandy and Kirsten were out to work and Seth was out being pussy-whipped Luke brought some beer round and they proceeded to get good and drunk, something Ryan hadn't done since coming back. Luke stole a march on him pretty early on – but Ryan started catching up once he uncorked a bottle of whiskey to keep the beers company.

"So, Chino, you got any tats?" Luke said out of the blue. He was stretched out on Ryan's futon, a beer balanced on his midriff.

"Huh?" Ryan squinted at him from across the room. What the fuck was he on about?

"You know, I thought all you Chino guys had them back in the hood.... Aren't tattoos, like, part of the whole tough guy thing?"

"Fuck, Luke, I'm not a fucking gangbanger. You kids have got the weirdest idea of what it's like outside your bubble." Ryan sounded pissed. "Besides, you've seen me in the changing rooms, man. Nothing there. Nada."

"Hey, I never look," Luke said defensively. But he couldn't let it go. "What about piercings?"

"That's it, man, I'm taking the booze away from you," announced Ryan. "No offence man, but you're beginning to sound gay. So either there's something you want to tell me..."

"No, no, no, no," said Luke hurriedly. He sat up on the bed and promptly knocked his beer over, causing Ryan to hiss with annoyance. "I just... I don't know. I met this girl in Portland and she's kind of into piercings and she 's been trying to talk me into..." He stopped, blushing, and busied himself with a towel, mopping up the beer stain.

Ryan's pissed glare had turned into something more benign. A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. "What? An eyebrow piercing? A nipple ring? Or something altogether more intimate?" Even the thought of it made his eyes water, slightly.

Luke shook his head. "Fuck no. I'd never do _that_. But yeah, she likes the idea of a nipple ring and I'm just not so keen. Hell, it's got to hurt."

"I thought you were used to that," Ryan said. "Didn't you use to wax your chest?"

"Not the same thing at all, dude. Or so I'm told."

"So that girl, she finds it a turn-on?" Ryan asked. He wasn't so hot about piercings himself, or tattoos. But he knew some chicks really got off on it. "She got any?"

Luke cracked a sly grin. "Yeah, dude, she's got a tongue stud."

Ryan cocked a questioning eyebrow at him. Luke nodded and grinned wider. Interesting, thought Ryan.

"So you've never tried that, huh?" Luke said.

"Nope. Sounds like I should, though," said Ryan, popping open another beer. "So is she trying to make you get a tattoo as well?"

"She's mentioned it. But I'm even less into that. Tattoos just don't do it for me. Although I knew this chick who had a really cool little snake on her butt. It was kind of sexy."

"Yeah", agreed Ryan, not thinking, "that _is_ a cool tattoo...." He suddenly realised what he was saying and stopped. What the fuck had he just done? Maybe Luke was too drunk to notice his slip. Except that he wasn't. He looked shell-shocked and was staring at him wide-eyed.

"You know exactly who I'm talking about, don't you?" Luke said slowly. "Don't even try to fucking deny it. I can see it in your eyes."

Ryan dropped his head into his hands and groaned. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. Of all the people he could have slipped up with it had to be the guy who had had a crush on Julie and nearly killed himself over her. Fuck. That was it. No more drinking. Drinking had landed him in that situation in the first place.

"It's not what you think," he attempted, before remembering that was pretty much what Luke had said when he confronted _him _about sleeping with Julie.

"What? You telling me you haven't fucked Julie?" Luke was beginning to sound good and angry. "Oh, this is rich coming from you. When I think of all the fucking grief I got from you when you caught us. You made me feel really shitty for sleeping with her and now you go and do the exact same thing. What kind of a motherfucker are you anyhow?"

"I guess motherfucker is appropriate," Ryan muttered. "Luke, I know this looks really crap. All I can say is... it happened in Chino. And I didn't think I'd ever come back here. I really didn't. And Marissa was off in rehab and... and fuck, Luke, she is kind of hard to resist."

"Sure, like that cut any ice with you last time round. How the fuck did she end up in Chino anyway? How did she end up with _you_? I thought she hated you."

"Me too. So we were both wrong. Look, I know you were kind of hung up on her. I'm sorry," said Ryan, trying to buy time to field an edited version of their meeting. No fucking way was Luke ever going to find out about the strip club. That secret he would take to his grave. And Julie had better, too. "We, huh, met in a bar. In L.A."

Luke eyed him suspiciously. "What were you doing in a bar in L.A.?"

"Waiting tables," Ryan said quickly. Best to stick to the tried and tested method of keeping lies as close as possible to the truth. "We talked a bit and she kind of came on to me and then... well it sort of happened after that. I'm really sorry. You have every right to be pissed. I'd be pissed." Please, please, please let that be enough, he thought.

Luke still looked put out, but he was simmering down. "She came on to you, huh?" he snorted. "Man, Julie is a real nympho sometimes."

You have no idea, Ryan thought. I bet she would've blown me then and there in the strip joint if I'd let her. "Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly fighting her off," he said out loud. He already felt like he was betraying her confidence without going into any detail about her persistence. "Say, um... you're not going to tell her are you? Nobody knows about this."

"Yeah, I can imagine. No, man, I'm not going to talk to her about it. But you have got a fucking nerve. And Julie, hell, I'm beginning to wonder about her. I thought she liked me. Now it looks like she just goes for Marissa's rejects." There was just a touch of hurt pride in Luke's voice.

"If it makes you feel any better," Ryan said wryly, "I seem to poach on Caleb Nichol's territory."

"Really?" Luke's eyes widened.

"I kind of hooked up with this girlfriend of his, a total babe, one evening. A long while ago. She was twenty-four before you ask." Ryan said quickly. Better not to dwell on what happened that night either, he thought, or Luke could get really pissed. Right now, he merely looked impressed. Maybe he did remember Gabrielle.

"So you're not like, upset, about Julie, are you?" Ryan asked cautiously.

"Nah, I got over her." Luke sighed. "Still the best lay I ever had though."

Ryan nodded in agreement and raised his beer. "And then some."

_The end_


End file.
